Hampton," said
Frank.
"A good idea," said Mr. Temple, approvingly. "Well, boys, there will
be no church for us today. This matter has got to be attended to."
CHAPTER VII
KIDNAPPED
"Not a trace, Bob. I don't know what to make of this."
"Nor I, Frank. A fellow wouldn't believe that right here near New
York, in the most densely populated part of the East, two men could
steal an airplane and escape without a trace."
"Oh, I don't know, Bob. You remember last winter when that aviator
from the upper end of Long Island was last seen flying across the
Sound toward the Connecticut shore and was never seen or heard of
again."
"But, Frank, here forty-eight hours have passed. Here we are, Tuesday
morning. Dad has wired every city, town and hamlet in the East. Not a
sign of the machine, nor of the men."
It was, in truth, Tuesday morning. The morning when, everything going
as planned, they should have been setting out on their flight to the
Hampton camp in New Mexico. Instead, the boys were moodily pecking at
breakfast, the airplane had disappeared, and the trip seemed more and
more remote.
To add to their worries, they had been unable to reopen communication
with their chum, Jack Hampton, by radiophone, since that first and
only time the previous Saturday afternoon.
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